People Change
by queenbibliophile
Summary: Rose has plenty to be angry about. The world is fucked up and the adults are doing nothing to stop it, leaving her a world that's less than perfect and more than a little damaged. She's angry, broken glass and papercuts that bleed out and became fatal. But maybe all she needs is someone to smooth over those rough edges, wrap her in a blanket, and tell her it'll be okay.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, people. I haven't been on here in forever. But as you can see, I'm trying to write this story here. Hopefully, it'll go better than my previous icky attempts. I think that this might just be the one.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 _Love is the rose. Lust is the thorn._

* * *

 _Why shouldn't moonseed and neem oil ever be used in a potion together?_

Rose sighed, rubbing her eyes fiercely with the heel of her hand. Her quill slipped out of her fingers and clattered to the floor. Professor Digory really did detest fourth-years.

Catching herself before she could fall asleep, she glanced sleepily at the clock ticking in the corner and yawned, stretching and twisting her back to get a feel for uncomfortably hard, wooden chair beneath her. How other Hogwarts students had survived, she didn't know.

She sat up, looking more intently at the clock and internally panicking. _Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitfuckingshitsticks._

Hastily, she shoved her parchment and inkwell – _remember to close it first, sweetheart_ – she reminded herself, hoping she hadn't ruined her books. Eyes darting around anxiously at the quiet library, she got up, silently padding her way across to the large double doors, swinging them shut behind her.

She spelled the doors shut and then smiled grimly as she squatted down so her ears were level with the keyhole, pulling three bobby pins from her hair. Oh yes, she'd caught Argus Filch locking the doors the muggle way to keep students like her out, and she didn't intend to leave evidence for him to find that would lead him to the Weasleys at once.

Merlin knew that they were the only students that could unpick a lock with bobby pins or a few toothpicks. Filch would've known it was her straight away. Which other Weasley would bother being in there so late?

Hearing a small click, she pushed herself away from the doors and grabbed her bag, slinging it over one shoulder. She dropped the three bobby pins into it, and pulled several more out of her hair as well, shaking her head so her tresses fell somewhat decently around her shoulders.

 _She was fucking late._

She hurried through the hallways as quickly as she could, paying as much attention to sounds as much as possible. Years of wanting to stay up past her bedtime had trained Rose to completely focus her hearing somewhere else while she was doing something else. Many nights, she'd detected her parents' footsteps on the floor outside her bedroom, and had had enough time to smack her nightlight off and snuggle into her sheets just for a few minutes, until they believed she was asleep.

When the door closed, she'd sit back up and go back to reading.

Walk, breathe, listen. Over and over and over again, like a mantra. She couldn't afford to be caught. She'd never be able to look her family in the eye again. It would be mortification worse than the time Nana Weasley had caught Teddy and Victoire in a broom closet together at the Burrow.

Footsteps.

Her back slammed against the wall as she stood as still as possible, breathing harshly. She peeked around the corner and rolled her eyes.

Prefects.

Her cousin. It was bound to be. She didn't really care which one it was at that point. Three houses had been graced with Weasley-Potter prefects that year.

Dominique, Molly, Roxie. Really, when would the boys of the family ever step up and stop behaving like absolute oafs?

Her heart beat erratically in her chest when her mind reminded her treacherously that she wasn't exactly fit to hold the Weasley banner up proud either. Rose wished she could permanently shut down that snide, sarcastic bitch that voiced her inner monologue.

The prefects moved on, mumbling about late nights, and she breathed.

Jogging lightly up the stairs, she reached the landing from where the long climb to the Ravenclaw tower awaited. Insufferable, stuck-up prudes.

Her hand was shaking. It was actually fucking shaking. Where was he?

Her eyes flitted from one direction to another before her heart rate calmed down. Granted, she wasn't on time, but Professor Digory really, really hated fourth-years, and there'd been times when he never actually showed up at all.

Waiting, waiting, for him to make an appearance before she called this whole thing off and decided to go back to her dorm.

"You're late." He sounded angry, and that only irritated the fuck out of her more.

"Yeah, well. I'm not exactly running around here just to do your bidding, twat." She snarked, running a hand through her hair to try and tame the wild, curly locks. He rolled his eyes and stepped forward.

 _He was sweaty_ , she noted. "What the hell were you doing? You look like someone just poured a bucket of cold water over your head and you stood there and let them. Going soft, Zabini?"

He chuckled, his dark eyes glinting. "Quidditch."

She scoffed. "It's past one."

"I _know_. I told you to be here at twelve-thirty." He _was_ angry, and in a few quick strides, he was towering over her, doing his best to stare her down.

"And _I_ told _you_ ," she hissed, taking a few of her own steps forward, bumping her chest with his and forcing him to stumble away from her, "that you'd be lucky if I showed up at all. It's late. I'm tired. Did I waste my time?"

His mouth attacked hers with a savagery she'd associated with him the day he walked into the Great Hall and was sorted into Slytherin – of _course_ he was sorted into Slytherin, he was a fucking Zabini – and she gripped his arms, steadying her small frame before he shoved her backwards and she collided with the wall.

"You son of a _bitch_." She spat. "That'll leave bruises."

He grinned at her, cheekily, mockingly. "Good."

She yanked his lapels down and crushed her lips to him again, letting him hoist her and lock her legs around his waist. He ripped his mouth from her, leaving it stinging and her gasping, reaching up to make sure he hadn't drawn blood.

He hadn't stopped, trailing down until he worked feverishly on her neck, one spot after another. He grunted, lifting her higher and a hand came to settle on her arse. She bit her lip and stifled a moan.

"I won't tell on you if you like it, Weasley. I'm not a snitch." He looked up at her, challenging her.

"Shut up and do your job."

He slammed her back into the wall again and smiled at her sudden intake of breath. "I'm the one giving the orders around here. You aren't."

"Sure, Zabini." She sucked in mouthfuls of air. "And I'll tell your precious pureblood friends that you approached me, and not the other way around. I'll tell them what you really think about my dirty, blood traitor arse, so if you could kindly _shut up_ and do your fucking job, we'd all be the happier here."

He didn't reply, and she knew she'd pissed him off to the point where he made sure he'd leave a few more well-defined bruises on her hips before he let her go for the evening. He descended on her collarbone again, marking her pale skin easily, one hand digging into her hip. He hadn't cut his nails again. She'd definitely need a Band-aid tonight.

She straightened.

"Liked that, did you?" He murmured. She didn't hear him.

A pair of molten silver eyes were glaring furiously at her from across the hall. Suddenly ashamed of herself, she dropped her eyes, biting her lip again to stop the wretched moan that Zabini had almost elicited from her.

He'd caught them again.

* * *

 **A/N: This is a Scorose fic, I promise. Keep with me, you might be surprised with what I have in store for this retelling.**

 **Leave a review if you're interested, I might take this down if no one wants to read.**

 **Hope you have/are having/had a good day :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Took me a couple of weeks, but I got this up, didn't I?**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 _You look like edges and thunderstorms._

* * *

He was avoiding her.

How did she know? He disappeared into the boys' dorms the moment she entered the common room. He refused to lend her his History of Magic notes, and the last week when she and the rest of her year painted themselves red and gold for the Quidditch match, he didn't participate because he claimed the acrylics they were using hurt his skin.

It was a load of bullshit and she knew it.

Her hair flying behind her wildly, she took the longest strides she could – curse her damn height and her short legs – to catch up to the slightly taller, blond-haired boy ahead of her.

They'd nearly reached the Potions classroom when she finally found herself walking side by side with him.

"Don't apologize." He nearly growled, the muscles in his jaw moving as he ground his teeth. "Not again. We both know you don't mean it."

"Scor –"

" _Rose_." He cut her off. "This stupid, utterly fucked-up thing you've got going on with Zabini has taken up the better part of a year. D'you really think you're ever going to get something substantial with him?"

Her cheeks burned. " _No_." She spat. "He's a fucking arsehole – I'm aware of that. He's bigoted and sexist and fucking racist and the perfect example of everything upside-down with the world, but –"

"He's abusive." He said flatly. "That's it. No buts, no nothing. He physically marks you."

They'd reached the door of the Potions classroom, where, upon entering, they would pair off and attempt to brew a potion that really shouldn't be taught to them until their fifth year. The professors were batshit crazy, and Professor Digory was the most batshit crazy of all.

"How on earth do you know –"

"That he leaves scars on you?" He questioned bluntly. "Anyone can see it. The ends of your shirt have red stains on them. The other boys in the dorm think you're a cutter."

"I'm not a cutter!"

"You might as well be." He snapped, turning on her, grabbing her upper arms and giving her a rough shake. "You won't get me back until you leave him behind, Rosie. I've made that very, very clear, but you still continue to pick that worthless piece of shit over your best friend. I don't know how you sleep at night."

She stared at him, at his molten gray eyes that now looked like pieces of dyed glass, frightened out of her wits. He'd never been this angry. She knew he disapproved of her sneaking off to meet Zabini, and she knew that he wouldn't ever be her friend like he used to until she broke it off, but he'd never outright said it to her before.

Swallowing mutely, she followed him into the classroom just as the one-minute bell rang and hurriedly took out her textbook before Professor Digory decided that their incompetence required another pop quiz.

Polly Digory was a tall, thin woman with more curves than edges. She held her hair in an elaborate bun on the back of her head and wore blouses and pencil skirts with sharp heels under her robes.

She may have been Muggleborn, but she was quite possibly the most fearsome teacher Rose had ever known.

The clackety-clack of her heels sounded closer and closer, and Rose began to sweat.

"Miss Weasley." Her voice was smooth. "Pull your hair behind your back before you end up blowing this classroom sky-high."

Scarlet, she pulled a hair tie from around her wrist and put her hair in a topknot. Professor Digory walked away from her and called for their homework as she heaved a sigh of relief. Meekly, Rose took the parchments from the pair behind her and passed hers and Scorpius' up ahead.

"You will prepare a Scintillation Solution with your partner today." She ordered them. "The steps are on the board, and this is purely a diagnostic test to help me decide where to begin teaching this class some of the more trickier solutions."

She leaned back against her desk. "You were assigned reading last night. Each pair will tell me one required ingredient for this potion."

The pair in front of them were Ravenclaws. Smart, snobby, and stuck-up. They'd probably memorized the textbook already, and promptly replied, "Leeches," to the professor. Rose was so busy thinking up the worst adjectives for them in her head, she didn't notice when it was their turn.

"Cowbane Essence." Scorpius answered her calmly when it was their turn, and startling her at the same time. Professor Digory nodded and moved on.

"Start crushing the rat spleen." He ordered her, turning to the wormwood. "We can go from there."

"Look, Scor –"

"Save it, Rosie, please." He cut her off wearily. "I barely got enough sleep last week, thanks to the image of Zabini holding you against the wall replaying on the back of my eyelids. I can't deal with your half-hearted apologies at the moment. Write me a letter or something, and hope I'll take the time to read it."

Okay, she was more than a little pissed off now. "You don't get to pass judgement on what I do. You're my friend, not my father. Start fucking acting like it."

"I _was_ your friend." He corrected her, hands flying over the cowbane essence. "Not anymore."

Stewing, she looked down at her mortar and half-crushed rat spleen. Raising her pestle, she brought it down as hard as she could, pretending that she was pounding the sense back into Scorpius.

* * *

"He won't fucking talk to me." She complained as Zabini mouthed along her collarbone. "He calls me his friend and then gets all dad-protective on me – I'm a fucking big girl and can take care of my-fucking-self!"

"Weasley, shut up." He demanded of her, unbuttoning her white blouse. "I don't care. I'm horny and I need you to shut up."

"I told you not to take my shirt off." She groused. "I'm not comfortable with that. Snog me all you want, but I'm walking out the minute you start taking my shirt off."

His hands stilled. "It's been one fucking year, Weasley." He snapped at her. "I won't force myself on you, but when are you going to be ready? This millennium? The next?"

She rolled her eyes and his arms snaked around the small of her back as he attacked her mouth with a vengeance. Rose threw herself into the kiss, tongues wrestling for dominance, and grabbed the collar of his shirt with one hand, hooking the fingers of her other hand into his belt loops. He bit her lip harshly where he knew it was tender, drawing blood, and then he sucked it away, ripping his mouth off hers to place more hickeys along her neck.

She moaned, tilting her head back so he could get full access, which he took full advantage of. Nudging her tie out of the way with his nose, he continued to press rough kisses and bruises to the swell of her breasts.

"Zabini," she warned him, barely able to get the three syllables out. He ignored her.

"Zabini." A little more insistent this time as he pushed her tie out of way and bit the top of her breast. He went lower, pulling the blouse down and exposing more and more of her cleavage until he hit her bra and stopped, running his mouth along the line of red lace.

"Andino!" She finally stopped him and he raised his head, glaring at her.

" _Don't_ call me that horrible name, Weasley. I'll make sure your neck is black and blue before you do." He threatened her, dark eyes blazing.

"You went too far." She accused him harshly. "You went too fucking far. I _told_ you to stop."

"I didn't take your fucking shirt off, Weasley." He shot back, gripping her waist. She brought her hands around to his chest and balled her fists.

"You know what, get off me." She snarled, pushing him away. Hastily, she buttoned her blouse and fixed her tie, picking up her discarded robes and book bag from the floor.

"Are you fucking joking with me?" His voice was low, hard. He took a step towards her and Rose suddenly felt afraid. She inhaled, closing her eyes, and steadied herself. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Don't bother owling me." She hissed at him, whirling around and trying to walk away. His hand closed tightly on her arm.

"You're breaking up with me." His voice was incredulous, and Rose wanted to laugh.

"You're a dim-witted arsehole, Zabini. What did you think we had in the first place?" She growled at him, gripping her wand tightly in her hand. "Get out of my sight before I hex you six ways from Sunday."

His eyes bored into her, smoldering with barely-contained anger. But she was the better dueller, and they both knew it.

" _Fine_." He ground out, releasing her at once. "This shit doesn't go past the black Weasley, clear?"

She scoffed, refusing to give him a confirmation. He narrowed his eyes at her as he collected his things and stalked away from her, moving towards the dungeons.

Rose turned away from him. Roxie would know everything very, very soon. But she needed to talk to someone else first.

* * *

Banging on the door of the boys' dorms at midnight was a stupid idea and she knew it. She did it anyway.

"Merlin, Thorn." A shirtless Louis filled up the doorway, rubbing his eyes and yawning, using that nickname that he'd stuck on her when they were kids. "The fuck do you want right now? We're trying to sleep."

"Get Scor." She ordered him, gripping the handle of her bag. "It's important."

He rolled his eyes and ducked back inside as she stood there impatiently. He reappeared a few minutes late. "'E doesn't wanna talk." He mumbled.

"It's not a request, Lou."

"Merlin and Morgana, can I just get you Al before you explode in a little red mushroom?" He grumbled, stretching his back. "The boys and I are trying to fucking sleep. _Sleep_ , Thorn. You might have heard of it. Good for the raccoon bags under your eyes." He yawned and looked at her blearily.

She rolled her eyes at his rambling and pushed through him, entering the dorm as he loudly protested and tried to stop her. Lamps began to turn on and boys began to grumble.

"Is that Rose?" Albus groaned from the bunk closest to her. "Rosie, go away!"

Murmurs of assent came from the other three beds and the boy standing behind her. She ignored them and plowed on.

"I need to talk to Scor." She persisted, roaming the dorm with her eyes and trying to find him in the dim light. A pale body shifted under a heavy comforter and pulled a pillow over his eyes.

"Scor, come on."

"Just go, Malfoy!" Somebody yelled from under mountains of quilts. "It's fucking cold and your fucking girlfriend won't let me fucking sleep."

"She's not my girlfriend." He grouched tiredly. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

Suddenly, the room was brightly lit for a second. Rose squinted, but the lightning had passed, leaving thunder to boom angrily outside.

"Thunderstorms are no place to talk, Thorn," Louis said through another yawn. "I'll make sure he talks to you tomorrow – it's Saturday, anyway. He's not going anywhere." The blond promised.

Defeated, Rose let herself be herded outside and winced when her cousin slammed the door shut. She turned around and crossed the common room to the girls' dorm, trudging up the stairs.

Dumping her bag onto the floor and pulling her tie and robes off, she looked around for a pair of her pajamas, hurriedly pulling them on and braiding her thick hair before scrambling over to the third bed from the bathroom and climbing on top of it.

"Roxie." She shook the sleeping figure, hoping to wake her up without a lot of effort. The girl slept like a log most of the time.

"Rox, get up." She poked her back with a sharp finger but the girl only grumbled in her sleep. Rose sighed.

"Roxanne, I told Zabini to leave me the hell alone."

That did it. She sat up immediately, blinking the crust out of her eyes. Her voice was gravelly.

"You did _what_ now?"

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 **A/N: Chapters will get longer, I swear. Like this, don't like this? Leave me a review or something - I practically live for them XD**

 **Have a great day!**


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